


Honey Flows

by MrsMess



Series: Bluegirls Come In Every Size [5]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Baby, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Literati (Gilmore Girls), Love, New Family, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Revival, Post-Series, Sex, Smut, because I'm incapable of doing without, by my standards, i guess, post-pregnancy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMess/pseuds/MrsMess
Summary: ”I’m not doing you some favor. I love you!” [...]The awareness that they’re alone [...] crashes in on her and she forgets that she's annoyed. She observes him instead. His neck, arms, hips, and his eyes, where the same insight changes his expression right at that moment.Whoa.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rumaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumaan/gifts).



> This is a bonus chapter of the Bluegirls Come In Every Size-series (part 3 from a chronological point of view), so it’s good but not necessary to read the other parts first. If you don’t wanna do that, check the tags for a minimalistic ”previously on...”.  
> Thank you Rumaan for helping me out with terms for baby furniture and for being awesome in general <3

[RORY] 

She wakes up from the silence. That's the bar now. She's on the couch under a blanket. She checks her phone, one am. She sits up and rubs her eyes. It's her turn to sleep, but her mommy-brain won't let her. She's constantly listening, even when she's out of it. All sleep is light. Her breasts are aching, it's been a few hours since she fed Richard. He is roughly two months old and this is his fourth week of colic, which means that nothing really helps, not even food, especially not food. Infants sleep a lot, but unfortunately just in short sections, surfacing every now and then to eat, or in Richard's case, to cry. It’s been weeks since she past the point where she could describe her exhaustion in established terms. Since then the words have really lost all meaning. 

And during all of this she's in love. New love, standing on old, balancing. With all the extra height and dynamic it implies. She feels it, in her abdomen, throat and lips. Under her skin. The intense impulses to touch him, warmth in her body, the nearly painful longing for him. She shares her old bedroom with him and Richard. Close quarters, but without any real opportunities to take advantage of the spacial intimacy. They’re awkward in their new roles, all work. And no release. There's too much to do. And when there's not she's being told to sleep, to eat, the two things her lovesickness doesn't want her to do, but that she needs desperately. She knows they’re supposed to make room for each other and could use some guidance in the matter, but would rather swallow her own tongue than go to her mother about it. And the doctors don't know how to handle her and Jess as a couple. Her married friends were told to reassume sexual activity at their earliest convenience, but because he started joining her appointments so late in the pregnancy they don't know what to make of him and seem reluctant to offer advise. She feels ready. The stitches from Richard’s birth came out nearly two weeks ago, but there's been no time to do anything about it. Because her feelings never vent, there’s a constant buzzing in her. The frustration is worsened by the sleepless nights.  

She walks into the bedroom expecting to find Jess in bed and Richard in his crib. That’s not the case. Jess is in the easy chair, asleep. Richard is lying belly down on his chest, arms and legs outstretched like a little frog. Despite her fatigue she smiles. The position is adorable. She looks at Jess. He’s looking pretty silly in the awkward state in the chair, but his face when he sleeps is something else. Disarmed. She gets stuck staring at it. And the image of the two of them there, chest to chest, stops being funny and turns beautiful. She’s filled with tenderness and gratitude and it’s so strange how those two emotions intertwine with the desire to be alone with Jess, to reclaim their title, something that’s sorely needed after two months. She shakes her head and sighs, leaning in to move Richard. 

 

[JESS] 

He wakes up from her touch. Warmth and scent radiating off her and charging the air around them as she lifts her son from his arms. Her eyes are tired but locked with his. As she turns around to put the baby in the crib he’s unable to look away. She’s in a t-shirt and panties and he stares at her legs, hips and waist when she leans over. He can’t help himself, although he usually stops his mind from wandering and has been since the birth, it takes energy though, which is too hard to summon in his just risen state. The only thing he can do is make sure he stays in the chair to not crowd her. So he does, while the impulse to touch her ripples to his skin making it tingle. She turns and meets his gaze in the murky room, eyes dimmed, mouth slightly open. A step places her within reach and he fights the urge to use it. 

Like through some sort of miracle she straddles him on the chair, her head obviously in the same place as his, and kisses him heatedly, mouth open. He returns the kisses, too tired to pace himself. His hands travel inside her t-shirt up over her breasts. He tries to be careful, it's been sort of an uncomfortable area for her since Richard's laid claim to it. The feel of her on his palms causes him to thrust his hips to her center. He lets go of her at that to control  himself and strokes her legs instead, up to her hips. The reflex keeps mincing at him and finally he’s forced into action. He slides his hands underneath her thighs and butt and lifts her as he stands up. A couple of steps puts them next to the bed and he tries to ease her down, to avoid a creak that might wake Richard. She’s grabbed hold of his t-shirt and keeps him in place even as her weight is supported by the bed. She drags it off him and immediately moves her grasp to his hair and lower back pulling him closer. He gives up on trying to divert what he wants and kisses her with abandon, grinding his hips into hers. A muffled moan vibrates off her, through her mouth and chest and she hikes her knees up. The sound and sensation almost does it for him and he uses his last coherence to unbutton his pants. At that moment, Richard wakes up. A brittle, but insistent cry from the crib. 

It’s a power outage in him. Then he takes a deep, slightly shaky breath and pushes it all down, rolling off her. She covers her face in her hands for a second, and then she gets up, takes the crying baby in her arms and starts pacing. He lies on his back for a couple of minutes, calming himself and trying to think of something to say. Something to comfort her, or himself, but that’s never been a strength of his, at least not something he’s been able to do on purpose. According to his own rules for magical thought, his power depends on his ability to keep himself in check, and now he didn’t. He has no words, so he gets up and walks out the room, to try and get some sleep on the couch. When he wakes up from the silence a while later he shuffles back into the room and gets into bed with her, trying to keep some distance to not wake her or any impulses of his own. 

Richard wakes them both up at dawn. Jess sits himself up, but when he tries to stand Rory holds him back. 

”I got it.”  

He raises his eyebrows. Usually she doesn’t protest their system of alternating with Richard. But he lies back down as she carries the baby out of the room. The lack of activity doesn’t do him any favors though. It just sets him thinking.  

He’s really too tired to worry about their situation in any lucid way, but that’s just it. Being tired is kind of like having a bad immune system: you’re susceptible to a whole bunch of bullshit you would’ve usually just brushed off, in this case his longing for her takes the shape of constant aches making him irritable on a more occurring level than he would’ve liked. He’s aware of the reason for it, but can’t focus enough to drive it off. 

He hears Richard crowing through the wall and a little while later Lorelai and Luke as they get up and join Rory in the kitchen. When the sound of the running shower adds to the cacophony, he gets up. 

 

[RORY] 

In the shower she tries to block out the memories of last night as best she can since they make her knees buckle. She hasn’t experienced unveiled want like that in a long while, and for it not to go anywhere... She shakes her head to get rid of the image of him on that bed, eyes to the ceiling. That paired with him in the chair with Richard minutes before makes her feel ashamed. 

Is this all she can offer him? Sleep deprivation, responsibility for a child that isn’t his, celibacy with a dash of sexual masochism, barely a space in her old room, his things in boxes in the garage? She sticks her head under the scolding water to shut her thoughts off, but as she gets out if the shower she still can’t face herself in the mirror. She wraps a robe around her body and exits the bathroom. 

All inhabitants of the house are in the kitchen, Lorelai and Luke are at the table and Richard’s in his bouncing chair in the corner. Jess is up also, at the table with a cup of coffee. He looks up at her as she enters, shooting her a little smile. She can’t bear to look at him, and goes to get a cup of her own instead. She feels his gaze burning a hole in her back, then Lorelai comes up beside her, rubbing her shoulder with her own. 

”Hey kid. That was some encore Little Richard gave last night.” 

Rory groans. Of course they heard it. They probably hear everything. She musters a smile. 

”Yeah, well... Just when you think you’re out he pulls you back in.” 

”That’s parenthood for ya.” 

Rory forces a laugh. She knows it’s just a comment to lighten the mood, but she stiffens anyway. This, forever... it’s a basic nightmare. And she can’t help thinking that the statement’s true for Lorelai. What her mother’s pictured for her, for herself, at this point in life is probably pretty far from reality. Rory’s mind is heavy from the thought. 

Meanwhile Richard’s growing anxious in his baby bouncer, and she readies herself to comfort him when Jess reaches out to pick him up. Rory hurries past him. 

”Don’t.” She says. ”I’ll get him.” 

”Why?” He stares at her intently, sharply questioning, obviously onto her. ”You’re just outta the shower. Let me.” 

”You’ve done enough.” She picks up Richard and walks towards the bedroom. 

”What the hell is your problem?” He snaps. 

In the corner of her eye she sees Luke and Lorelai exchanging glances. Luke gets on his feet and removes himself from the room. Lorelai stares at them both, frowning.  

”My problem is you doing what you’re doing!” She bursts. ”This isn’t your responsibility!” 

He gets up. 

”What are you talking about? Of course it is, he’s yours!” 

”Right! Mine. Not yours.” 

His face is naked sadness for a fraction of a second before he covers it up. It’s enough for her heart to break, however. In a flash she's so angry with herself that she wants to scream. A not so discrete cough comes from the corner of the kitchen. 

”Okay!” Lorelai says. ”Timeout!” She steps to the middle of the room positioning herself between the couple. ”It’s getting a little nutty in here now, and you know why? ’Cause you two haven’t slept properly since Little Richard was born.” She looks between them. ”So here’s what’s gonna happen; me and Luke are gonna take Rich for a little adventure today and you two can... deal with this on your own, ’kay?” 

”Mom-” Rory starts. 

”Not taking no for an answer.” Lorelai walks up to her daughter and peels her grandson from her grasp. ”You left some formula in the fridge, right?” 

Rory looks away, defeated, tired. 

”Sure.” She says. 

Lorelai pats her on the cheek and walks to the fridge picking out a bottle.  

”Luke? You get the sling?” 

”Yup!” Comes from the hallway. ”Pram’s out front!”  

”Coming! See you crazy kids later.” Lorelai shoots them a smile and a wink and walks out the front door. 

Jess sighs and looks at Rory. She returns the look ruefully, and turns away from him. 

”Rory,” he starts mollifying. ”I’m not sure what’s going on-” 

”I’m sorry.” She interrupts. 

”It’s okay.” 

”It’s not. It’s too much. You give up too much.” 

He frowns. 

”What am I giving up?” 

”Your home, your job, your life-” 

His expression is one of disbelief. 

”I moved a household that fitted in three bags and four boxes, still got the job, and my life?” He pauses briefly, eyes to the ceiling. ”As far as I’m concerned I gave up being lonely.” 

”Sleep, sex-” 

”Do you want me to leave?” 

He looks scared and her inside mirrors it as the thought chills her to the core. 

”No!” 

He exhales. 

”Then this is how it is for now. We got together a month before Richard was born, I knew what I was getting myself into!” 

She forces comfort on herself with his words and feels it working, warmth spreading in her chest. She tries to collect herself and a few seconds pass before she speaks again. 

”Okay, fine. But I’m not sure I can let you work this hard from now on.” She goes for the tone of a joke, but it’s clear that he’s having none if it. He takes a step towards her. 

”And I’m not sure I can just back off. I’m in your life, I can’t be one foot out the door concerning Richard. If I’m with you I’m with him.” 

”But you wouldn’t have to take him every other night, you could take it easy-” 

”I don’t wanna take it easy!” He raises his voice again. She sighs. 

”I appreciate everything you’re doing, but I’m just reminding you that there’s no obligation on your part-” She observes his look and steers in another direction. ”You’re not Jimmy, or Liz for that matter. You don’t have to compensate for any of their limitations.” 

He lets out a silent, cold laugh, before protesting, restrained, careful to weigh every word. 

”Don’t do that! Try to analyze me like I’m some case study in psych 101. I’m not compensating for anything! I’m not doing you some favor. I love you!”  

She remembers the only other time he told her, but back then he appeared from the void, just to be swallowed by it again as the words were spoken, like that’s what brought him there. Now the situation’s strangely reversed, and he’s the one who won't go away, telling her to stay. He’s here. They both are.  

The words tug at her. She feels them in her abdomen, throat and lips, feels his presence. The awareness that they’re alone in the kitchen, crashes in on her and she forgets that she's annoyed. She observes him instead. His neck, arms, hips, and his eyes, where the same insight changes his expression right at that moment. 

Whoa. 

It only takes a stride to close the gap between them. She grabs the back of his head and his shoulder dragging him into a determined kiss. She leans backwards and pulls him off balance, landing against the kitchen counter with a muffled thud. He finds himself quickly and presses against her greedily. Inside her the motor memory of last night kicks in and her mind falls into the haze. 

She vaguely registers that she’s only wearing the robe and his hands slip inside it stroking her stomach. Somewhere way back in her mind she’s self conscious the increased stretch marks and softness of that area, but she’s too desperate for him to linger on the feeling. He grabs her waist and lifts her up on the counter, pushes her robe aside and takes a sharp unsteady breath as his eyes trail her body. His hands move from her tummy to her thighs, squeezing and dragging his nails over them, before slipping in between them. His eyes move to meet hers, asking permission, which she grants by pushing her hips forward, letting out a sort of broken whimper as his fingers touch her. He kisses her while stroking her tentatively. At that, frustration wells up in her. How could she have worried about this? This is easy. They haven’t had sex for two months – a look is pretty much all the foreplay she needs. 

She grabs his wrists and pulls his hands up her thighs while slinging her legs around his and partly dragging herself to the edge of the counter, partly roping him in. She feels him through his pants and can’t think, can’t wait. She reaches in between them unbuttoning the garment with efficiency that surprises even herself, pushes them down and brings him in. He immediately starts rocking the two of them on the bench. She lets out a very audible breath at the familiar and  simultaneously foreign sensation. She clenches her thighs around his hips slowing the motion to a stop. She closes her eyes to take it in. It’s like waking up a sleeping limb. She examines her own inside using him. She feels the new scars after her sutures, tries out her muscles for what seems like the first time in a while, and revels in the pleasure of it. She opens her eyes to find his half-dimmed gaze on her face. He’s holding himself still with obvious effort and his eyes locks pleadingly with hers. A happy smile spreads across her face and she releases her thigh lock to set him rocking them again. This time she lets her lust build inside with purpose. 

She tilts her hips forward while leaning her head against the cabinets behind her, creating a gap between the two of them that allows her to look at him. This has been difficult since they got together at a time when her body put a lot of restrictions on sexual positions. But not now. Her gaze travels his hips, arms and shoulders. She lets out a small growl and grabs hold of his t-shirt there, dragging it off him. It’s a sight to behold. Tightness clenches in her abdomen and she reaches out and drags her hands down the front of his body with relish. He manages a grin midst his engrossment in her. His hands moves up her body, one locking hold of the back of her neck, and one stroking her face, forehead, cheek and mouth, while his gaze follows. She smiles again, can’t help it, and his eyes go warm. 

He loves me, she thinks and knows it’s true. The emotion makes her moan, and he closes his eyes as if he can’t take it. His hand strokes back down her body, her throat, collarbones, in between her breasts and stops at her waist, squeezing it hard. 

They’re close now. She arches her back and squeezes around him to push herself over.  

He drags her into a kiss that dampens the sound of their climax, she feels his in his twitching muscles, tight hold of her and the vibrations of a moan.  

His head rests in the crook of her neck, and she embraces him tighter to her, exhilarated by the release. As her breathing slows, a violent drowsiness overcomes her. He pulls back his face, still out of breath, struggling to concentrate. 

”We should sleep.” He manages. 

She nods fervently. 

”Hang on.” He adjusts his pants, grabs hold of her and carries her into their bedroom. She entangles herself with him on the bed, intensely unwilling to put space between them. Her head barely leans on his shoulder before she drifts off. 

The next time she wakes up it's from her bedroom door slowly opening and Lorelai sticking her head in, she has Jess' t-shirt in hand and hangs it on the doorknob. Rory catches her mother's eye then, and raises her eyebrows to inquire about Richard. Lorelai shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.  

"He's fine. Don't get up." She mouths. Rory rests her head back on Jess' shoulder, and smiles at her mother as she closes the door.  

"Thanks mom."  

”Nice hair.” Lorelai snickers. 

She should probably be embarrassed but is feeling a bit too content to bother. Instead she looks at Jess, that unguarded face. She takes a moment to indulge in her blossoming love, to really feel it. Then the memory of her words from before makes her wince. They'll still be true tomorrow but she knows she'll have to deal with that a bit more delicately from now on. It's bound to get really complicated, especially considering how many hours he's clocking with Richard. But he might be right, maybe that's the only way to handle this, it's too late for second thoughts. She leans in and kisses his neck repeatedly. 

"Wake up, wake up, wake up." She whispers. He groans and twists himself sideways to kiss her. She almost looses her concentration but pulls away to his disgruntled sounds.  

"They're back." 

"Okay." He plays with her hair. She makes deliberate eye contact with him. 

"Can you take Richard? I could use an extra half-hour." 

He smiles. 

"Yes." He says.


End file.
